Trowa's Vacation:The Musical
by griff drake
Summary: Having decided there were not enough Trowa fics, much less off the wall insane Trowa fics out there today, I set to work. Enjoy! ^.^


-griff drake  
  
Trowa's Vacation: The Musical  
  
Warnings- minor swearing, umm, Trowa singing and going absolutely insane?  
  
Disclaimer- Gundam Wing is not mine. Never has been and probably never will be. Neither are most of the songs' original content. HOWEVER some of the songs actually ARE mine. *grins proudly* Yeah.  
  
  
  
  
  
Trowa inhaled a deep breath of air. The breeze tugged at his unbelievably firm hair, birds chirping to each other and flashing from branch to branch. The smallest of smiles made its way to the pilot's lips, his emerald eyes sparkling. Why the cause for the smiles, sun, and pretty fluffiness? One word my friends, vacation. That's right, after seventeen rigorous years of surviving and fighting to the point of which none should be forced to, Mr. Trowa Barton was in desperate need of a break. Now, as he stood on the doorstep of his small, rag tag circus trailer, the relaxation deprived pilot was just a few steps away from his very first vacation.  
  
Slowly, ever so slowly, in order to preserve this magnificent moment, one tan booted foot cautiously reached out, the toe just barely hovering above the cracked pavement. 'Almost, Trowa. Just one, more,'  
  
"Trowa Barton! Just where do you think you're going, mister?!" With a slight glimmer of disgust, he turned, his eyes catching sight of the light, brunette haired girl dashing towards him. "TROWAAA!! YOU CAN'T LEAVE!! WE HAVE A PERFORMANCE TONIGHT!" Trowa rose up to meet Catherine, a hint of a sly, sneaky joy flickering in his eyes.  
  
"No no, Cathy. Didn't the manager tell you? I already received permission to leave. Kent's doing the performance with you." Catherine stood in shock, then furrowed her thin eyebrows in anger and frustration.  
  
"Well then, just what is so much more important than our performance?" The tall pilot longingly glanced to his old, moss green Jeep, just begging to take him away into the sunset. He softly sighed in irritation, shrugged his shoulders, then glanced back to the young lady in front of him.  
  
I just need break. It's not good to have too much stress packed up on you all the time." Catherine turned red with fury, firmly crossing her arms across her chest.  
  
"Are you saying we pile a lot of stress on you, Trowa? Are you accusing us of your need for a vacation? WELL?!" Trowa shut his eyes, groaned within himself, then glared Catherine down.  
  
"I didn't say you did it, Cathy. Now I apologize but I really must run." 'Accidentally' pushing the pouting girl out of his way, Trowa threw his navy duffel bag over one shoulder and dashed off towards his chariot to freedom.  
  
Catherine gasped and fumed in the background as the picture closed in on Trowa, smiling with glee and moving in slow motion. Happy seventies disco music filled the background, spinning hippie flowers cascading across the screen. The hot pink colored words then flashed upon the screen. "Trowa's Vacation: The Musical" (A/N: *snickers* Oh yes. Crazy I am. ^_^)  
  
The unibanged pilot leaped behind the wheel of his jeep, tossed his bag into the passenger's seat, turned on the ignition, pedal to the metal, and he was off. Free at last. The little plastic Heavyarms set upon the dashboard shook its hips to and fro with the rhthym of the car's bumpy driving. And to the tempo, Trowa did what all main characters in musicals do, broke out in song.  
  
"Oh I'm packin' up my load, headin' down the road, into the morning light, in my ugly car I'm gonna go far, gonna get to my destination by night, takin' it eeeasy, takin' it eeeasy, won't let Catherine's scream stoop meee," The music stopped, the car rolling over a lump with a soft "thud", Trowa's eyes growing wide. He immediately slammed down on the brakes, his little, ugly car coming to an abrupt, squeaky halt. "Catherine! Are you," The pilot paused mid-sentence, glanced at his watch, sighed, then moved the car forward again. The music coming back as well. "Takin it eeasy, oh eeeasyyy, nothing's gonna stop meeeee." Though, little to the pilot's knowledge, that was to be tested.  
  
"Okay, so let's see." Unfolding the map, leaving one hand on the steering wheel, Trowa began to plan out his path to relaxation. "So if I take Route 90 to the next intersection, then I should hopefully be able to verge over onto the,"  
  
"WATCH IT PAL!!" Slamming both feet down onto the brakes, one on top of the other, the old Jeep came to a screeching halt, just shy of hitting the truck in front of him. Trowa blinked in slight shock as the truck's door opened and a young man clad in a black tank top, black jeans, a black baseball hat, and a pair of thick-footed black, leather boots hopped down and began to grimly strut towards Trowa. Leaning in the driver's window, the trucker growled in distaste, his hat shielding his features. "Okay pal, just what do you think you're,"  
  
"Duo?" Stopping in mid-sentence, the trucker flicked his hat up, blinked his big, cobalt blue eyes, and glowed with joy.  
  
"Trowa! Hey! Long time no see,buddy!" Ignoring the traffic jam he was creating, the good ol' God of Death went on, yacking to Trowa about the old days, the new days, how he's been fine, the usual. Trowa wearily blinked as a crow bar flew past Duo's head and a Starbucks latte splatted on the back of the Jeep. Honking, obscenities, and various objects flying in every which way under the scorching summer sun, the sizzling pavement below, oh yes. Isn't summer vacation beautiful? "Hold on just one second, will ya, T-man?" Trowa gave a short nod as Duo pulled himself back from the window and turned to face the oncoming hoard of angry drivers.  
  
"Hey! Could ya'll just shut up for one minute?! I'm tryin' to talk to my friend!" Unfazed by Duos plea, the drivers went on with their hollering and rampaging. Now, Duo Maxwell was the calmest and best natured out of all the Gundam pilots, but when a melted Slurpee oozed itself all over his braid from above, you can just go and throw all that nice crap out the window. A man in a buisness suit cheered for his victory by the Slurpee as Duo stiffly turned on his heel, walked back over to his truck, and climbed in. The hoorays grew louder as Trowa's eyes got a bit wider. For he knew that Duo would run and hide, but he'd never tell a lie. And when he went around proclaiming that he was the God of Death, well brother, that's no lie. The crowd began to quiet down as the back of the 16-wheeler slowly began to slide open. A hint of metal glistened in the darkness of the storage area, a mechanical buzzing slowly filling the air. His eyes turning to neon green, Deathsythe awoke from its peaceful slumber with a vengeance. Slurpees were icky, stcky, and a pain to clean out of hair. This could get messy. Trowa sighed and rested his head on the steering wheel, Deathsythe's scythe bursting into a neon, green glow.  
  
"Oh Duo, not on the civilians.."  
  
"Don't worry T-man, these are no civilians. They're enemy soldiers! Who else would be cruel enough to pour a Slurpee in the Great Destroyer's hair?!" With one swift stroke, the green, glowing scythe sliced through the front line of cars. The mechanical wizzing filled the air again as the rest of the cars rose up on their back tires and transformed into mobile dolls. Trowa blinked in his rear view mirror, glanced to the clock, then softly shook his head and moved the little car around Duo's truck and onto the wide, open road. Music began echoing from behind the pilot's car as mobile dolls, rather, pieces of mobile dolls went flying up in the air.  
  
GD: *walks in front of screen, then stares at you and blinks* Oh, hi there! Heh, don't mind me, I'm just gonna go get some popcorn, you want anything? *smiles, nods, and runs off*  
  
The little green Jeep pulled into a nearby gas station and slowed to a halt. Trowa turned and pulled his key out of the ignition, stepped out of the car, and walked into the convenience store. A small bell jingled, some scratchy old country music playing in the background. His emerald green eyes scanning the various item for sale, Trowa finally selected a package of trail mix and a bottle of Arizona Iced Tea (which is actually made in Canada, isn't that weird?!) and proceeded in moving up to the counter. He blinked behind the empty counter, then noticed a small bell sitting next to the cash register. Lightly tapping it, a small chime echoed out and across the store.  
  
"Ah, pilot 03, how good to see you." Trowa blinked in confusion.  
  
"T,Treize?! But, but you're dead!!" Quirking an eyebrow, Treize snapped a finger, causing his attire to change to vaudeville showman's wear, cane and all. He then sprung up onto the counter and began tapping his foot, the music changing to vaudeville. Then pointing his cane at Trowa, the once master of OZ broke out in song.  
  
"That's right mister Barton! I'm dead tired of being some boring old guy, so I came back to show everyone I can really fly!" The store's lights began flashing different colors as Treize proceeded in a routine to outdo all others. "I'm not really some rose obsessed freak, or a guy with an eyebrow tweak, in fact my name isn't even Treize, they called me James Brown back in my day!" Trowa shook his head in shock and bewilderment.  
  
"What?!" Treize nodded, snapped again, and changed his attire to a more James Brownish piece.  
  
"Woo! Watchme now! Huh! Oh yeah! Whell listen now son and listen good, cuz your old man Treize is a flyin' brotha from the 'hood! I can do the mashed potatoes and do the twist, lemme tell ya now, the ladies like it like this! Woah! Yeah!" The young pilot began to falter back in confusion and fright.  
  
"A,are you mad?!"  
  
"Naw, I'm just bad! That's right, I'm bad to the bone! Woo! Sing it with me now! Devil with a blue cape, blue cape on, I'm a devil with a blue cape on! Yeow!"  
  
"Stop right there Treize! You're a noble man! Whatever happened to your white gloved hand?"  
  
"Don't need no glove, don't need no ring, mista Treize don't need much of anything! Cuz I'm a devil with a blue cape, blue cape on, yeah devil with a blue cape on! Watchme now!" Not being able to take it anymore, Trowa turned and bolted out of the store only to find Elvis pumping his Jeep with gas. Leaping in the car and speeding off before the King could finish, all he heard n his way down the road was a resounding "Thank you, thank ya very much."  
  
The unibanged pilot shook his head, eyes still wide.  
  
"Lord, I NEVER want to see that again!" he glanced to the shining digits on the Jeep's clock, then bit his lip in frustration. "I'm never going to make the boat at this rate!" Groaning in irritation, he slowly slid the car to a halt, a small, wooden shack blocking the road ahead. A young man clad in an old red plaid shirt, a pair of dirty boots and a pair of old, worn overalls shuffled up to Trowa's window.  
  
"Buy a peanut or you're dead. Buy a peanut or I'll shoot off your head."  
  
"Heero?! What on Earth are you doing?!" Heero frowned, still holding up one peanut in his hand.  
  
"Selling peanuts. What does it look like?"  
  
"But why?!" The scruffy haired pilot reached into his pocket and pulled out a large stack of papers.  
  
"Research shows that one in every ten enemy soldiers has a peanut allergy. So I'm just making everyone who comes by here buy a peanut." Trowa shook his head in disbelief.  
  
"But not everyone who has a peanut allergy is an enemy soldier!" Heero shrugged.  
  
"I'd give my life for the cause, so can they." The unibanged bomber growled and gripped the steering wheel.  
  
"Yeah? Well I think your idea's stupid, Heero! I'm outta here, I have a boat to catch!" Tearing off the road and around the shack, Trowa took off again. Heero frowned slightly, then looked down at the peanut in his hand.  
  
"We need to work on our sales pitch."  
  
On his way down the wide, open road, Trowa couldn't help but to start another song. Wouldn't you?"  
  
"People are so weird today, I just don't see what's wrong. Then I guess I qualify too, afterall, I'm singing another stupid sooooooooong. But soon I'll be livin the high life on a boat, gonna get away from it aaall, yeah, high life on a boat, gonna make me feel not so small." Checking the time, then moving faster, Trowa couldn't help but smile. Vacation was just ahead.  
  
"The weak will not be allowed on my ship! You! Little girl! Your bear is weak! GET OFF MY SHIP!!" Giving a slow blink, Trowa stood in line for the cruiser in disbelief.  
  
"Wufei. Is. The. Captain." The young Chinese man kept directing who was allowed on 'Nataku' and who must jump into the sea and swim along side her as Trowa just sat there, sighed, and shook his head.  
  
"Well, why the hell not? I mean, Heero's selling peanuts, Duo's fighting Transformers, Treize is back from the dead and singing with Elvis, I should have expected Wufei to be the captain.  
  
"You!! Your hair is, oh, oh it's you Barton. Well, you are honorable enough to come aboard Nataku. BUT YOU!! YOUR NOSE IS WEAK!! TO THE FISHES!!" Trowa sighed and shuffled his way onto the ship, navy duffel bag in tow. 'Uugh. Oh well. Perhaps things will lighten up once the cruise starts.' Giving a soft smile, Trowa sighed and made his way around the ship untill he finally came to his room. Flashing on the lights, and collapsing on the bed, the pilot was just about to drift to sleep when,  
  
"BWAAAKAAUUU!!" Jolting up, the young man was quite startled to see a rather fat, white feathered chicken sitting next to his head.  
  
"A chicken? Why is there a chicken in my room?" Stampeding feet came crashing down the hall to answer that question.  
  
"STOP! Don't lay a finger on Chante! YOU HEAR ME BARTON?!" A bit frustrated and confused, Trowa glanced up to a steaming Wufei from where he sat on the bed.  
  
"Chante?" The Chinese pilot firmly nodded, stepped forth, then quickly scooped the plump hen into his arms.  
  
"Chante is my pet chicken. She is the Chicken of Justice, Barton! So you better treat her with respect!" The brown haired pilot frowned slightly and sighed.  
  
"I don't care if she's the chicken of pork! Just why is she in my room?!" Chante squawked and nestled herself into Wufei's hold.  
  
"This room was hers before it was yours! So she should really be asking me what you're doing in her room!" Giving an irritated groan, the tall pilot just waved Wufei away with his hand and collapsed on the bed, soft snores escaping his mouth. Wufei blinked.  
  
"Bak, buak?"  
  
"Yes, I suppose, Chante." Chante flapped out of Wufei's hold, landed on Trowa's head, then adjusted herself untill Trowa Barton's hair had become the ideal hen nest. The Chinese man gave a soft smile, then turned and left, back to steer the ship.  
  
"Rock the boat, don't rock the boat baby, rock the boat, don't tip the boat over!"  
  
"WINNER!! What are you doing steering MY ship?!" Quatre, who was clad in a flowered Hawaiian shirt, a pair of khaki cargo shorts, and a pair of pale pink flip flops turned to Wufei and blushed.  
  
"I'm sorry, Wufei. But if I didn't we would have hit that iceberg and caused a titanic disaster!" The blonde pilot giggled slightly at his joke. "Get it? Ti, ti," Slinking back, Quatre quickly moved out of the way, allowing Wufei to resume his position of captain.  
  
"Now get out of here, Winner! And you are not permitted to fly Nataku unless I say so! Understand?!" Quatre gulped softly and weakly raised a finger.  
  
"But, umm, Wufei? We aren't flying, we"  
  
"SILENCE!!" Pilot 04 nodded and quickly scampered out the door, slamming it behind him. Wufei sighed and smiled, then lovingly stroked the steering wheel. Placing his captain's hat on his head, he proceeced in beginning to sing. "Bermuda, Bahamas, come on pretty mama, ooooh, just off the Florida Keys, there's a place called Kokomo, where we can get there fast, then take it slow, yeah, that's where we wanna gooooo, way down in Kokomo."  
  
"BUUUUUUUURRRRRRRWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" Springing to life, Trowa jolted up at the sound of the ship's horn.  
  
"Wha, what's going on?" Staring out the porthole, the young pilot watched in horror as a huge mass of vacation bound people came stampeding onto the ship.  
  
"Buak?"  
  
"Oh no. Please no!"  
  
"Buak, BAKA!!" Trowa nodded solemnly and turned to Chante who sat, flapping her wings on the bed.  
  
"I am an idiot, you're right." Sighing miserably, he sat down next to Chante and softly patted her. "I should just face it. I was never meant to go on vacations. I'm just supposed to work, work, work."  
  
"Buak? Bak, bak, bak, baawkaaaw?"  
  
"No, I truly don't think things will lighten up. My optimism has died out. I mean, look at me! I'm talking to a chicken on the S.S. Crazy Boat!" Chante blinked, then shrugged and began preening her coat of fluff and feathers. Trowa sighed, combed his fingers through his hair, then stepped out of the room and gloomily trotted up to the ship's deck. Head hanging down and boots slowly shuffling along, there's no way Trowa could have expected what was about to happen next.  
  
"SURPRISE!!!"  
  
"Wha?!" The brown haired pilot leapt back in shock, as a whole crowd of people stood before him, decorated in party hats and confetti. Everyone was there. From Quatre to Dorothy, from Milliardo to Lt.Walker, Relena to Quinze, and well, you get the point.  
  
"Happy Birthday Trowa!" His eyes growing wide in fear and pure insanity, Trowa backed up, trembling.  
  
"D,Don't come any closer! Just stay away! I'm warning you!" Quatre blinked in concern and confusion.  
  
"But, but Trowa! We're your friends and we're throwing you a surprise party! Be happy!" Trowa gave a psychotic smile and twitched, backing up to the side of the ship.  
  
"Heheh, sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows everywhere, I don't even know you so I don't care!" Heero frowned and crushed a peanut shell in his fist.  
  
"And he calls ME crazy." Quatre slowly advanced on his friend, hands held out in peace.  
  
"Trowa, it's okay. I was like you once. Remember, when I almost blew you up? Yeah, you see? Now calm down! We have a nice cake for you!" At his words, Rasid came out of the kitchen, wheeling a huge cake in front of him. Trowa calmed down a bit, then shrunk back in horror as the cake began to move.  
  
"Happy Birthday mister Barton, Happy Birthdat to you, boop boop de doop!" Treize leapt out of the cake and grinned, arms outstretched.  
  
"AAAAAAAGH!! YOU PSYCHOS WILL NEVER GET ME!! NEVER! WAHAHAHAHA!!" And with that, the pilot flung himself off the ship and into the sea.  
  
Everyone paused and blinked at each other.  
  
"I TOLD you the cake thing was too much! I mean, ESPECIALLY with Treize! I mean, eww!" The OZ soldier shuddered as Treize glared.  
  
"And WHAT, may I ask, is wrong with ME?"  
  
"Hey," Heero began, wearily eyeing the OZ soldier.  
  
"I thought I killed you." Lt. Walker nervously glanced around, then slowly backed up.  
  
"Umm, no,heh, nooo."  
  
"Hn. Omae o korosu."  
  
"Eeep!"  
  
Somewhere on an island  
  
"Aaah, now THIS is what I call a vacation." Trowa sighed as he lay, sunning himself on a beautiful pink sanded beach, Chante resting on his chest.  
  
"Bwaaaakaaaaah."  
  
"Yupp. Nothing can go wrong now."  
  
"Ooga erk eepwa?"  
  
"Eep, urp urp, ookwa!"  
  
"Heheheheheheh." The two natives grinned happily and licked their lips as they eyed the young man and hen from behind a coconut tree.  
  
"Oogawa poocha"  
  
The End  
  
The scene closes with the swirling hippie flowers, twirling to "Kokomo" by the Beach Boys.  
  
Roll Credits  
  
  
  
Trowa Barton-Trowa Barton  
  
Chante-Chick Chick  
  
Everybody else-Everybody else  
  
We would like to thank Elvis for so kindly returning from the grave to assist us with the film, and Lt. Walker, it's little Ozzies like you that make the show worthwhile. ^_~ No peanuts were harmed in the making of this *CRUNCH!* o_0 umm, aheh, erk well, nevermind.This film is dedicated to all the psychotic, stress driven, vacation deprived people of the world. WOOHOO!! YOU GUYS RULE!! Thank you and please watch your footing on the way out, movie theaters are the hobo's second home. Thank you and good night. ^_^ 


End file.
